


Dave: Take Control

by senalishia



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bulges and Nooks, Dom/sub, Drone Season 2018, Earth C (Homestuck), Established Relationship, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Sheath Play, Situational Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, Xeno, Xenophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 02:42:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15787311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senalishia/pseuds/senalishia
Summary: "You agreed to this, and you like to think of yourself as a man of your word. Two weeks ago, Karkat diffidently admitted he might enjoy being dominated. Sexually. By you."You’ll probably wind up just awkwardly trying to imitate something you saw in a movie once (and not even a porno, like Austin Powers or some shit) after which Karkat will refuse to talk to you for a week, but what the hell, you’ve clawed your way out of enough piles of ball-gagged smuppets, you must have some idea of what you’re doing, right?"





	Dave: Take Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notwest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwest/gifts).



> My fill for notwest for Drone Season 2018. Prompt: "Dave and Karkat do sheath play. Bottom!Kat, Denial, humiliation and begging would be amazing!!". I tried to hit all the requested kinks, although some of them were new territory for me!
> 
> Normally I like my fics to stand on their own without author explanation, but since this is PWP: This fic takes place on Earth C, post-SBURB, and Dave and Karkat are both adults (legally at least).

“So…” you say as Karkat closes the bedroom door behind the two of you. “We’re, uh. We’re doing this.”

 

“I’m not forcing you to,” Karkat crabs. “That would be beside the point. It would, in fact, be about as completely the opposite of the point as you could manage without breaking the laws of physics, although with bullshit time powers you could probably come pretty close, I don’t know.” Before he can really work up to a good rant, he suddenly darts his gaze away and says, “If you really don’t want to, we can just…”

 

“No, I do, I do,” you assure him. “We’re, uh, broadening our horizons, pushing our boundaries, getting out of our goddamn comfort zones, we got all kinds of corporate retreat garbage up in here.”

 

It’s mostly the truth. You agreed to this, and you like to think of yourself as a man of your word. Two weeks ago, Karkat raised the idea of adding some variety to what could generously be called your sex life, which up to that point had consisted mostly of a desperate, hormone-fueled mashing together of two very different reproductive systems, somehow ending in orgasms all around. He said something about quadrants, and wanting you in all of them, that sappy romantic shit he loves so much. Then he started going on about troll caste structure and power differences in inter-caste relationships, and you made a stupid joke about busting out your dominatrix outfit. That sparked an hours-long discussion of human versus troll kink culture as understood by two internet-educated loners whose home planets no longer existed, during which Karkat diffidently admitted he might enjoy being dominated. Sexually. By you. And you agreed to it.

 

You’ll probably wind up just awkwardly trying to imitate something you saw in a movie once (and not even a porno, like Austin Powers or some shit) after which Karkat will refuse to talk to you for a week, but what the hell, you’ve clawed your way out of enough piles of ball-gagged smuppets, you must have some idea of what you’re doing, right?

 

“Okay,” Karkat says, but he still doesn’t look like he entirely trusts you, which hurts a little, to be honest. “But we can stop any time you want to.”

 

“Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” you joke.

 

“Either one of us,” and now you are annoying him a little, if the rise in volume is anything to go by, “can, at any time, check in with your imbecilic human traffic light system, or ask for a check in from the other person. That’s how this works right?”

 

“Yeah. Yup. Sure is. Green go, red stop, yellow hold your horses, mama, and slow the fuck down.” No reason to be nervous. The whole point is that you are running this entire damn circus. Sure is a lot of responsibility though. “So does that mean we’re starting? Now?”

 

“Sure. From this moment, until...whenever we agree to stop, I guess, you have total control over me and I will do whatever you want. So?”

 

So. What… do you want.

 

Well, this is supposed to eventually lead to sex, isn’t it? “Um… take off your shirt?”

 

Karkat smirks. “Was that a question?”

 

Jerk. “You watch that attitude, I don’t need any of your lip, boy!” you snap, only partially playing.

 

“Better,” he says as he strips to the waist.

 

You take a moment to admire the view. The signs that Karkat is as much insectile as mammalian have only become more prominent as he matures, but that must just make you one sick bugfucker, because the odd joints and subtly inhuman musculature get your heart pumping every time.

 

You stand directly in front of him. Put your hands on his waist and feel his body heat, near feverish compared to you and normal only for him. He stands perfectly still for you as you do. He’s yours. Yours to do with whatever you want.

 

Is that weird? Or is it how easily you can see yourself slipping into that mindset that scares you?

 

Well, he asked for it. You kiss him on the mouth, long and soft and exactly like you’re used to.

 

“Go lay down on the bed,” you tell him. 

 

He does, and your stomach flips again at having this much control over him.

 

After a few deep breaths, you climb up on the bed and kneel over him, straddling his hips. His pants you remove yourself, with only a muttered “Come on, help me out,” by way of command as you struggle to pull them down over his butt. Once off, you toss them on the floor and contemplate your next move. (You’re totally sucking at this, aren’t you.)

 

You’re still fully clothed, but you kind of like it that way. You might remove your sunglasses-- nnno, maybe in a little bit. You have Karkat Vantas, the objectively hottest troll in the universe, stripped to his boxers and willing to do anything for you, or to you, and you’re dithering like Bill Gates being asked what he wants for Christmas this year.

 

And he’s still smirking at you.

 

You pull off his boxers, which come away more easily than the pants did, and end up seated between his spread legs with full view of all his unclothed glory.

 

Well that’s...new. You realize that, until now, you’ve never seen him completely sheathed before. During previous sexual forays, by the time you’d gotten down to business his bulge had always been at least half hanging out already, twisting and seeking in eager anticipation. (Not that you were any better.) But with the slow build up today, he’s not quite so aroused yet, and all you see is smooth chitin with neatly fitted edges, only a thin, glistening red line hinting at what lies inside. You run a hand up between his legs. Even his nook is more closed up than you’re used to, and barely wet.

 

You let your hand continue up and begin to explore the area around his sheath. It’s not completely rigid, it bends a little at your touch. 

 

You realize suddenly how  _ quiet _ it is. Silence for this long in Karkat’s presence… it’s actually kind of eerie.

 

You wonder what noises you could get out of him with the right moves.

 

You press your middle finger into that crack between the plates, just to see what happens. There’s almost no resistance, the chitin slides apart slightly and your finger slips in easily. It’s sort of slick and gooey in there. You add a second finger and slide them around; you can feel the shape of his bulge, more shrunken and still than you’ve previously encountered it.

 

“If you really feel the need to stick your stubby human fingers in something,” you hear from the top of the bed, “I have a perfectly good nook--”

 

“Shoosh,” you say and lightly slap his knee with your other hand. When his breath hitches slightly, you panickedly reconsider your actions of the past five seconds (but you don’t remove your fingers yet.)  “Wait, is this okay? Are you--”

 

“I’m fine, Dave. If I actually want you to stop, I know what to do. We agreed on this, remember?”

 

“I-- yeah. Right.”

 

When you do pull your fingers out, a broad sliver of candy-red bulge follows in their wake, pressing apart the edges of his sheath. Instinctively, because you didn’t mean for that to happen and you’re still a little worried you messed up somehow, you push it back in, as if it were a loop of intestine escaping a vicious sword wound to the belly.

 

The low growl-groan that Karkat makes is enough to send your own blood flooding south, making you regret somewhat that you haven’t taken your pants off yet. It also brings to the front of your mind a very bad, very impulsive decision you made one and a half weeks ago and have been attempting to forget ever since. 

 

“Hold--hold that though,” you say as you scramble off the bed and begin rummaging through your underwear drawer. It’s a terrible place to actually hide anything, but by the time you were holding the cursed object all you wanted was to never see it again.

 

You pull out an oblong plastic container about the length of your hand, a bright orange and yellow mottled object rattling around within it. You stare at it. Try to tamp down your anxiety. Open your fly with one hand both to give your hard-on some breathing room and so you can delay a little longer. Then turn and approach the bed again.

 

Karkat is propped up slightly on his elbows, staring at the ceiling and muttering something to himself. You sit back down between his legs and flick a quick glance at his crotch. He’s almost fully resheathed again. Good. You flip the top off the container and slide the contents into your hand, trying not to overthink this. If it wasn’t normal, or normal-ish at least, you wouldn’t have been able to buy this thing.

 

Karkat is looking at you now. He inches up a little for a better view. “So what have you got--  _ jegus fuck _ , Dave is that a  _ sheath sticker _ ?”

 

“Yeah.” You try to maintain your poker face but your traitor mouth wants to smile for some reason. “Fake one. I’m still not cool with having live bugs near my junk.”

 

“Pansy. Trolls have been using them for thousands of sweeps. Where did you get it?”

 

“Internet.” You’d been seized with a perverse curiosity after your conversation with Karkat, and unfortunately for you and your total lack of self-control, Jane’s new, improved and 100% Condesce-free Crockercorp will sell you anything known to human- or troll-kind with free same-day shipping.

 

“Well, apparently I’m not the only one invested in make this interesting after all,” Karkat says. “So are you going to…”

 

“If you don’t want--" you begin, and Karkat sighs and flops back onto the bed. “Right. Just hold still, I’m gonna…”

 

This thing is supposed to be totally idiot-proof; the instructions don’t even have words, just a two step diagram. But then you will officially be The Kind Of Person Who Buys Sex Toys On The Internet And Uses Them. Are you sure you’re ready?

 

Karkat’s right, you are such a pansy. You place the thing over the slit in Karkat’s sheath and pull back the ‘head’ to lock it in place. Karkat hisses softly as it suctions itself down and sinks in dozens of tiny artificial claws. Done. 

 

So, the idea, if you’re going to get your money’s worth, is to rile Karkat up as much as you possibly can, knowing that he won’t be able to come until you unstick him. You rise to your knees and run both hands along his torso, feeling more confident as you form your plan of attack.

 

You can’t say you were always paying the best of attention to what either of you were doing when you surrendered to your hormones before, but you think you’ve picked up on a few things he likes. You brush your thumbs along the seams on the underside of his rumblespheres. He pushes his chest up into your touch and starts breathing harder. Yep, that’s a winner.

 

You explore his face and body, first with your hands, then with your lips. It’s not enough, you want  _ more _ of him. You finally strip down to your underwear and lay on top of him, relishing the broad swaths of skin-to-skin contact. He’s no longer able to hold still, and squirms beneath you with pent-up desire. 

 

Turns out it’s true what they say--boys only want one thing. You’ve been inside his nook once before, sort of, but something about the shape of it wasn’t--well, you’re superbly underqualified to say anything about how it compares to a human vagina, but you’d suspect that even interspecies missionaries wouldn’t suggest trolls and humans fuck face to face. However, tonight’s supposed to be all about trying something new. Time to experiment.

 

You get up off him, shimmy out of your last bit of clothing, and tell him, “Roll over.” He does, unquestioningly, and what makes that so enticing?

 

You find his nook with your fingers--it’s a lot wetter now--and feel around inside him a bit to check, just to check. (Any weird noises he may be making are merely a bonus). Yeah, that’ll work  _ much  _ better. 

 

The intensity of the heat and softness around your dick overwhelms you for a second. Sweet baby Jesus and all his reindeer, that’s good. You still have come in lower than you were expecting, work a bit to get the best angle, but you soon find a steady rhythm. 

 

Karkat turns his head to the side. Every breath is a soft whine, his face locked in a grimace and his hands twisted into the sheet until he risks tearing it with his claws. And you-- you did this--are doing this--to him. Your god, as he so often likes to remind you, the creator of your universe, is currently a shivering wreck beneath you.

 

Damn.

 

Another minute goes by and you’re really starting to hit your stride, but Karkat’s whines are deepening into whimpering moans. “ _ Fffuck _ , Dave,” he gasps. “I can’t--”

 

You close your mouth before you say what you were about to say. Haven’t you learned your lesson by now?

 

“You can,” you tell him instead. “And you’re gonna.”

 

He nods and, oh god, there’s translucent-red tears running down his cheeks, but he doesn’t ask you to stop. This evidence of his suffering should not be what sends you hurtling toward the edge, but that’s apparently not your decision to make, and you barely manage to preserve your dignity by telling yourself you don’t want to torment him for  _ too  _ long, before you come inside him.

 

By the time you get yourself cleaned up a bit, he’s pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. You’re pretty sure his claws  _ are  _ poking holes in the sheets now, and that this might be the only thing preventing him from ripping off the sheath sticker himself.

 

“”Kay,” you say, slapping him on the back, “you ready for the grand finale?”

 

“Please,” he whispers.

 

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

 

“Please,” he says, at a volume that’s loud for most trolls but more or less normal for him.

 

“Please what?” and now you’re just being a dick and you know it.

 

“Please may I come,  _ Dave _ .” 

 

“Yeah, I think we’re about done here. But I need to make sure you’ve really  _ earned  _ it.” You allow yourself a small smirk as he growls under his breath. “Why don’t you…” you consider what would constitute a suitable task. You shouldn’t make him wait  _ much  _ more, but you’re not quite ready for this to end yet.

 

You’ve got it. It’s perfect. “Go grab the bucket from under the kitchen sink.” Neither of you is really the “housecleaning” type; you mostly keep it there so Karkat has to see it every time he goes for a new garbage bag. So it’s appropriate, in a way.

 

“Seriously?” he mutters, but he crawls off the bed and awkwardly staggers out the bedroom door. It occurs to you, as you wait for his return, that neither of you closed the front curtains before you came back here. He’ll have to either cross past the exposed window on the way to the kitchen and on the way back, or stand there in full view to close them. At this time of night, it’s not likely anyone will see him, but it’s not impossible. 

 

He doesn’t mention it either way when he comes back, only holds the bucket out to you and says through gritted teeth, “Now what?”

 

You take the bucket from him and set it on the floor. “Kneel over it,” you order him.

 

He does as you say, hands in tight fists at his sides. You squat down in front of him on the other side of the bucket, ready to finally release him. “Now, you’re going to make sure it all stays in there when you come, right?” you ask first. “Don’t want any of your gross mutant genetic material getting all over my nice clean floor.” Ha. As if your floor--

 

Karkat closes his eyes and actually stops breathing for several seconds. “Yellow,” he mumbles.

 

Oh shit. It was the mutant thing, wasn’t it. And you thought this was going so well. “Sorry man, my bad. Here, let me just--get that for you--”

 

You flip the sticker’s head back down. It unsuctions, retracts its claws, and before you can pull it away is pushed aside by the desperate emergence of Karkat’s bulge and lands with a  _ clunk  _ in the bottom of the bucket.

 

You go up on your knees, pull Karkat close against you with one arm, and kiss him slow and gently as you stroke his bulge, one, two, three, and then hot genetic material floods over your hand and he groans in utter relief. 

 

Eventually, the both of you really do try not to drip on the floor too much as you make your way to the bathroom and shower off together. A few minutes in, you notice that you’re trembling, coming down off a peak of adrenaline higher than you’d realized. Then it’s Karkat’s turn to wrap you up in his arms under the warm water, pepper your forehead with kisses, tell you you did an amazing job. You think there might be some quadrant stuff going on here that you’re missing, but hey, what kind of idiot turns down naked shower hugs with their boyfriend?

 

Not you, that’s for sure.

 

“So you wanna try ropes next time or something?” you ask.

 

“Do you?”

 

Um. Well.

 

You wonder if Crockercorp will sell you a Boy Scout Handbook.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The Boy Scout Handbook is not a proper BDSM guide. If you want to do ropework, go find a book that will teach you how to tie knots safely on humans.


End file.
